Page 5 of Lucian

Smirking, Lucian shrugged. He had many tattoos. They were all important in their own way. His newest tattoo rested across his chest, from one collarbone to the other in elegant script. It read: This Thing of Ours. It was, essentially, La Cosa Nostra in English. Usually, his father peered over his tattoos with the disregard of a man who disliked ink, but he rarely said anything. This vocal disappointment was new.

Giving his brother a cocked brow over his shoulder, Lucian wondered what in the hell was up with his father tonight. Dante had come to sit up on the couch as well, a seriousness darkening his otherwise friendly features. Not that Dante was particularly friendly with anyone outside of their family and business.

“Is it pick on Lucian night, or what?” Lucian asked sarcastically.

“At least you can cover them up, I suppose,” Antony said, ignoring his son’s remark. “If Gio gets another tattoo on his neck where I can see it when he’s wearing a dress shirt, I’m going to burn it off with a hot knife and blow torch. See how he likes the pain, then.”

Lucian shivered, but hid it well enough. Antony did not make idle threats. Even if it was towards his sons.

“I’ll keep the ink to a minimum,” Lucian said to appease his father.

“You do that.”

Or I’ll just keep my shirt on so you can’t see, he thought silently.

“So, what’s up?”

Antony finished off his glass of whiskey before speaking. “About ten after twelve tonight, there was a shootout between the authorities and the motorcycle gang The Sons of Hell I’ve been keeping an eye on.”

Lucian’s interest was definitely peaked, now. “Oh?”

“Outside my casino.”

Damn.

“That’s ridiculous.”

Antony nodded shortly, anger clouding his face. “I don’t mind their business. I’ve let them do their nonsense on my territory because really, it’s not affecting me. They pay a healthy due to the Capos to keep their peace and place, just like every other drug or weapons dealer working inside my territory does. They follow my rules. I don’t fault them on that.”

“But?” Lucian pressed, knowing it was coming.

“But this is different,” Dante said from behind. “It puts us in a spotlight we don’t need right now. We do all of our business on the low, and the last thing we need to be, or even thought to be, is affiliated with a motorcycle gang famous for their bloodshed and drugs.”

“Like we’re not?” Lucian asked.

Antony chuckled. “At least we’re well-dressed sinners.”

Well, money did give them that.

Lucian still didn’t feel like he was getting the whole story. “What am I missing?”

“They’ve gone too far this time.” Antony sighed, a weariness reflecting in his green eyes. “This war they’ve declared on the NYPD has certainly kept the police off our backs for a little while. But it’s bad, Lucian. A young couple was picking up a friend at the casino. They had a baby in the back seat of the sedan. The young family was killed, as were three police officers, and one MC member.”

Oh, shit. Lucian felt a sickness rise in his gut like a poison. “Dad, you can’t blame your—”

“They aren’t the first innocents to be killed in this mess the MC created,” Antony continued, unaffected. “And while we all understand that collateral damage happens, they clearly don’t know when to quit. I will not have my businesses and family affected from their mess.”

“We’re going to make them quit,” Dante said, coming to stand beside his brother’s chair.

“What, pull a Montreal?”

A couple of decades earlier, an Italian crime family in Montreal, Canada stepped in during turf wars between rival gangs to put a stop to the bloodshed and violence. Oddly enough, it worked.

Antony gave him an unhappy look. “I wouldn’t say that. This isn’t a couple of kiddy gangs tossing lead at one another. This is the police, and a well-known, well-organized motorcycle gang that has over one-hundred-fifty clubs all across the United States and some in Canada. It’s not exactly going to be an easy thing, but it needs to stop.”

Fear was a great motivator.

The Marcello family was surely big enough to pull weight here.